


Demonic Half

by falsepremise



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Dating, Eventual Smut, First Time, Happy Ending, Longing, Love Confessions, M/M, Miscommunication, Oblivious!Aziraphale, Other, Other half, Romance, Seduction, Soul Bond, Soulmates, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Telepathic Bond, aziraphale's pov, holiday in Paris, intermingling, oblivious!Crowley
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:01:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28487976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsepremise/pseuds/falsepremise
Summary: Aziraphale loves Crowley. He always has. Yet, after a failed Armageddon, Aziraphale finds that he still can’t work up the courage to actually say it. Then Gabriel appears with a revelation: God did not cast half of all the angels into Hell, splitting the Heavenly body in two. The Almighty spliteach angeldown the centre and casthalf of each angelinto Hell. Crowley is Aziraphale’s demonic half. As Aziraphale finds the courage to confess his feelings, he is forced to confront what being whole again truly means.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

Aziraphale sighed as he tossed his book onto his desk. It landed with an unsatisfied clunk. Aziraphale rubbed his face in his hands, pushing his fingers into his eyes with little circular motions, making into stars burst in the blackness. It was no good. He couldn’t read. Horrifying but true. Aziraphale couldn’t take in a single word. His mind was too full of Crowley. Achingly, painfully, full-to-bursting full of Crowley.

Aziraphale opened his eyes and his gaze flicked immediately over to the window. As if moved by an unseen force, he stood and stepped steadily forward, until he stood nose to glass. He stared out of window wistfully, to where the Bentley had been parked no more than an hour ago. As he sighed sigh after longing sigh, his breath hit the glass, condensing into little white clouds.

How had he let another opportunity slip through his fingers? Aziraphale’s hands found each other and began to twist as he continued to berate himself. He shook his head and moved over to the couch, sitting himself down in Crowley’s place, in the very spot that Crowley had warmed all evening. It was still just a little warm. Perhaps it wouldn’t be perceptible to a human. But Aziraphale could sense it. He leaned down, nose to the material and breathed in. Crowley’s scent filled his nostrils and he made a little whimpering noise.

Oh, why was it so hard to say? In the immediate aftermath of Armageddon, with the voice of Satan himself still ringing in their ears, it had all seemed so obvious. Actually saying it all—putting crude and rough words onto something so beautiful and wondrous and known—seemed utterly unnecessary, like pausing with every step to acknowledge the ground under your feet. And besides, in the aftermath of Armageddon it was all, quite frankly, too exhausting to contemplate. They were free. They knew what they were to each other. And it would all be expressed in every conceivable way in the fullness of time. It had seemed so very obvious.

It wasn’t as if they had made no declarations. They had declared themselves their own side, and those three little words meant as much to either of them as an I love you. It wasn’t as if their feelings hadn’t been expressed at all. They had held hands the whole bus ride home. Aziraphale smiled as he remembered the moment when they had both reached out, moving as one, fingers entwining. They hadn’t let go the whole journey through. Back at Crowley’s, they had climbed into bed together, cuddling up as they talked like it was the most natural thing in the world. And when Crowley had become sleepy Aziraphale had held him as he slept and Aziraphale had lightly dozed himself. There was no discussion of it. No agreement. It simply hadn’t been necessary. 

In order to escape their fate, they had even shared the intimacy of swapping bodies—Aziraphale paused a moment as the memory of it made him shiver with pleasure. They had stripped off their outer skin, stood metaphysically naked in front of each other, and swapped. Spiritually, they had each put on the body of the other, as humans would swap clothing. Aziraphale had worn Crowley’s very body, the same body Crowley had been inhabiting since the very Beginning. He had walked about in the world with the physical of Crowley brushing up against his own spiritual skin. It was difficult to think of anything more intimate. It was difficult to think of anything more obvious. And it had all come so naturally, so easily. It had seemed quite superfluous to name it at the time.

But now, here they were, and it was all somehow, back to how it had always been. There was no holding of hands. There was no cuddling in bed. Aziraphale wanted to reach out. He longed for it desperately. But it was no longer natural or easy. There were no more declarations. And there was certainly nothing like the sweet intimacy of swapping bodies. No matter how much Aziraphale longed for it. Somehow, a gulf had opened between them. And Aziraphale could not understand why. Perhaps, the moment had simply been lost. Perhaps, it had been lost forever. Aziraphale, tears prickling at his eyes with this thought, sniffed, and, standing up carefully, began to pace.

There it was. There it was and Aziraphale had to face it: he had wasted the opportunity to give voice to his feelings because he had foolishly thought it unnecessary. But now, now he felt it very necessary indeed and yet he was tongue-tied. The words bubbled up inside him, desperate for release, but they jammed in his throat, and he choked on them. Aziraphale was free to speak. He was no longer shackled by Heaven. He no longer had a reason to keep his feelings hidden. He was free at last. He was free! But the freedom was terrifying. The wide-opened spaciousness of it threatened to crush him. All the certainty that he had felt in the aftermath of Armageddon had simply evaporated in the face of it. What if he was wrong? What if Crowley did not fully reciprocate all that Aziraphale felt? Aziraphale could no longer be certain. And he had to be certain, didn’t he? Crowley was all that Aziraphale had left now. He could not lose him. How could he risk that?

And yet…and yet, Aziraphale knew that he must. He had to tell him. He couldn’t keep living like this, surviving on a smile, subsisting on the little zing of fingers accidentally brushing against each other, measuring out every meeting, every phone call. Next time, he said to himself sternly. Next time he would come out and say it all. He had to confess.

A little ringing noise broke the silence in the bookshop and Aziraphale quickly turned to the left, smile brightening up his face, heart beating in anticipation. But Crowley was not there. Aziraphale frowned in confusion.

‘Hullo, Aziraphale.’

Aziraphale leapt in shock, eyes darting to his right, ‘Gabriel!’

Gabriel nodded and grinned a smarmy grin, ‘It’s been…well not that long really. A couple of months?’

‘You tried to destroy me!’ Aziraphale cried out as he stepped back. Immediately, his thoughts turned to Crowley. If Heaven was here for Aziraphale, then was Hell already at Crowley’s doorstep? His blood froze in his veins.

Gabriel shrugged and gestured it away with a wave of his hands, ‘Old policy. In fact, you’re back on the pay roll.’

‘I’m- I’m what?!’ Aziraphale replied with a hard gulp. ‘You mean you’re not here to- to…’

Gabriel shook his head.

‘And Crowley?’ Aziraphale said with soft desperation, wringing his hands.

‘Perfectly safe,’ Gabriel said with a smile, ‘Unlike you, doesn’t even have a visitor. In fact, Hell doesn’t know I’m here.’

Aziraphale breathed out a long shuddering sigh. Crowley was safe. Crowley was safe. He shifted his hands to his side, and then shifted them again to clasp each other behind his back. He stood tall, regaining his composure inch by inch. When he felt it in his grasp he spoke, ‘What do you want, then, Gabriel?’

Gabriel grinned, and gestured widely, like a game show presenter talking about the end of season prize, ‘Like I said, you’re back on the payroll and I’m here to give you your next mission.’

Aziraphale did not look impressed by the prize. His eyes narrowed and he replied with a bite of venom, ‘you tried to kill me.’

Gabriel shook his head slowly and sadly, eyes filled with what Gabriel imagined sincere regret might look like. He sighed deliberately, as if weighed down with it all. Then he shook his head again, ‘We all make mistakes. That’s the truth of it. I’m sure you understand that destroying you was the best course of action given Heavenly policy and knowledge at the time.’

‘I understand nothing of the sort,’ Aziraphale replied tightly.

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed, ‘Forgiveness is divine, Aziraphale,’ he said with a vague undertone of threat.

‘Is it?’ Aziraphale said tetchily, ‘that sounds like the kind of thing one should consider before forcing another angel into Hellfire.’

‘Yes, well, I’ve apologised, alright?’ Gabriel said with a sweeping, open gesture, ‘Let’s move on.’ He sighed, ‘Look, Aziraphale, there’s been some new…’ he paused and leaned forward, lavender eyes flashing as he whispered ‘revelations.’

‘Revelations?’ Aziraphale repeated, squeezing his hands together tightly, out of sight of Gabriel.

Gabriel nodded, ‘It turns out there was much we didn’t know, and it has been revealed to us now.’

What? Could the Almighty have spoken? Revealed some new part of her plan? Aziraphale’s heart thumped hard in his chest. Outrage still burned brightly inside him. But his curiosity was undeniably piqued and it proved too difficult to resist. He licked his lips, ‘What do you mean?’

Gabriel sighed. ‘I can hardly believe it myself. But it turns out it was all a test. And you passed, Aziraphale! You alone passed! Well, you and Crowley,’ Gabriel paused and frowned for a moment in thought. Then he smiled broadly again, ‘Well, that’s you alone too, I suppose!’

‘What?’ Aziraphale asked, brow furrowed, trying to make sense of it.

‘Can I shake your hand?’ Gabriel suddenly announced reaching out and grabbing Aziraphale’s hand and shaking it hard with a firm, almost painful grip before Aziraphale had the chance to reply, ‘Congratulations! Of all the angels, I never would have thought it’d be you,’ Gabriel shook his head and laughed as if Aziraphale passing God’s test was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard, ‘Perhaps softness is a virtue after all, Aziraphale?’

Aziraphale pulled his hand out of Gabriel’s, pursed his lips and said very carefully, ‘Gabriel, I don’t know what you are talking about.’

Gabriel nodded seriously, ‘No, no I suppose you don’t.’ He frowned and tapped his chin, trying to figure out how to explain it, ‘There’s been fresh revelation, Aziraphale. Revelation directly _from the source_.’

‘Oh,’ Aziraphale replied, eyes widening. So, God had spoken. God herself. And they hadn’t heard anything from her in so long. Oh, to hear her sweet voice again! Tears prickled in his eyes at the thought of it. ‘You mean f-from?’

‘Yes, she spoke to us all directly,’ Gabriel sighed, ‘all the angels. Well, except… you understand, we had to cut you off from the divine chorus when we…’ his voice trailed off and Aziraphale made a little desperate whimpering noise as he felt the loss of it.

‘But, oh, it was wondrous to hear her voice again,’ Gabriel carried out obliviously, ‘Such a shame you missed it,’ his lavender eyes flicked to Aziraphale and he belatedly noticed his pain. He cleared his throat, ‘Yes, well. Anyway, it turns out, the whole end of the world thing was a bit of a test. A test for _us_ , you see. And we thought she was only testing the humans! You know, she’s always had a sense of humour,’ Gabriel chuckled and shook his head, ‘And you, well, you were the only one who passed. You tried to stop it, you see. Turns out, _that_ was what we were meant to do,’ he frowned as if he still couldn’t quite see it. A moment later he waved the problem away, ‘So, the question is Aziraphale, why you? Why you of all the angels? I mean, and don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve never been much of a highflyer.’

Aziraphale frowned and squeezed his own hands together to keep his composure. He had no comeback for that. It was true. He had tried. He had tried extremely hard in the old days, had all kinds of ambitions. But he had never impressed, never truly succeeded. He was always, well, bumbling through.

‘Not very popular either,’ Gabriel added with a little shake of his head.

Aziraphale’s heart squeezed at the old wound re-pierced. That was true too. None of the angels had ever really understood Aziraphale. In the old days, he had longed for companionship so very deeply he had thought he’d burn out from the need. The only being who ever truly understood Aziraphale was, well, it was Crowley. 

Gabriel shook his head in wonderment and laughed again. ‘Of all the angels, I’d have never picked you, Aziraphale. None of us would. So, why did you managed to pass a test that the very highest in Heaven failed? How did you alone fathom the Almighty’s true ineffable plan?’ Gabriel paused a moment for dramatic effect, ‘Well, turns out she had an answer for that too.’

‘She did?’ Aziraphale mouthed, forehead creasing, lip wobbling ever so slightly as his hands clenched, fingernails digging into flesh, the pain keeping him steady. He couldn’t comprehend how or why the Lord had seemingly singled him out now. Gabriel was right. He was a nobody. A pathetic excuse for an angel.

Gabriel sighed and sat himself down on the couch, right in Crowley’s spot, right where Crowley usually slouched. Aziraphale bristled at the sight. Aziraphale thought it felt rather like watching a stranger brush their teeth with his toothbrush. An unwelcome and invasive intimacy. Aziraphale imagined Crowley’s scent becoming tainted with that of Gabriel—if he were to sniff the couch again after Gabriel left who would he smell, he thought to himself— and he grimaced.

‘She did,’ Gabriel continued, oblivious to Aziraphale’s discomfort, ‘and, oh, Aziraphale, it was even more shocking than finding out that you alone passed the test,’ Gabriel said, shaking his head again.

‘It was?’ Aziraphale said shakily. Right now, he could think of nothing more shocking.

Gabriel sighed and shook his head again, ‘The war, Aziraphale. It was…well…’ he laughed manically, ‘Aziraphale, it was a lie.’

‘What?’ Aziraphale said with a gulp. The war in Heaven was one of the most basic facts of Aziraphale’s existence. Before the Beginning, there had been a war in Heaven. Everybody knew that. God had cast out the rebels and now there were angels and demons and he, he was an angel. It was a basic fact that coloured his whole world, that had coloured his whole world for six thousand years. Aziraphale licked his lips, ‘How could that be?’

Gabriel sighed, ‘well, not entirely a lie. There _was_ a war in Heaven. We were at war with each other. But…’ Gabriel’s eyes fluttered shut and he grimaced. He took several deep breaths and opened them again, ‘Aziraphale, the Almighty did not cast half of all the angels into Hell, splitting the Heavenly body in two. The Almighty split _each one of us_ down the centre and cast _half of each of us_ into Hell.’

Aziraphale’s eyes blinked rapidly as he struggled to understand. ‘She- she- what? Gabriel, I don’t understand…’

‘Don’t you see?’ Gabriel said with a wave of his hand, ‘each of us is part of a pair, a pair that belong together, a pair that used to be one and the same being and the Almighty herself declared that your other half is, well… it is Crowley.’

‘I…’ Aziraphale gulped, mouth suddenly dry, hands shaking just a little in the grip of the other. Crowley, dear Crowley, who fit Aziraphale like a hand in a glove, who complimented him and brought out the best in him, who was his perfect opposite and yet, somehow, more like Aziraphale than anyone else he had ever met. It made sense and he couldn’t deny it. It made a terrifying amount of sense. He shook his head anyway, ‘No…no…that’s…Gabriel you must be mistaken. You must have misunderstood.’

‘Crowley is your other half, your demonic half…’ Gabriel continued with dramatic volume and ignoring Aziraphale’s shock, ‘our demonic halves are part of us, Aziraphale. They are the only one who can make us whole.’

Aziraphale shook his head rapidly, heart beating just as rapidly in his chest. Gabriel couldn’t know what he was saying, he couldn’t know what the phrase other half meant. He certainly couldn’t know how very accurately it described Aziraphale’s feelings for Crowley. Not even Crowley understood that.

Gabriel sighed, ‘And so it is clear, isn’t it, why you alone passed the test? You’ve been stationed on Earth, with Crowley, with your demonic half, for all this time. And you met up with him didn’t you, Aziraphale? You met up with him over and over again? Had some kind of friendship, didn’t you?’

Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he shook his head quickly, reaching automatically for old, familiar lies, ‘of course not, Gabriel. No, no, never. I barely know him. He’s a demon.’

‘It’s alright,’ Gabriel said with a sigh, ‘we know you did. We know you had an alliance of sorts. Of course, you did, he is your other half. He’s your demon. You’d have been drawn in. Drawn in ways you simply couldn’t control. The Almighty made that very clear. It’s how you know they are your demonic half, you see. In the circumstances it all makes sense and we can’t very well hold it against you. Not when God herself says that it was inevitable. Not when God herself says your relationship with Crowley his what allowed you to pass her test.’

Aziraphale bit his lip hard. Was this true? Had he been so powerfully drawn to Crowley because Crowley was his other half? Was that what had been happening all this time? He couldn’t deny being drawn to him from the very Beginning. Why, even that very first meeting. A demon, the serpent had appeared next to Aziraphale and Aziraphale hadn’t done anything of the things he ought to have done. He hadn’t driven him out of the garden or tried to destroy him or knocked him off the wall. Why, he hadn’t even walked away. Oh, no. Aziraphale had talked to the demon and he’d sheltered him from the rain. For a long time, Aziraphale had thought that his feelings for Crowley were just another example of his weakness and failings as an angel. After Armageddon, Aziraphale had accepted that he wasn’t the brilliant angel he’d originally hoped to become. But, what if, what if, his feelings were truly inevitable? What if they were God-given?

‘You alone had access to your whole self, Aziraphale,’ Gabriel said. He looked away, staring at the bookshelves, ‘I’m actually a bit envious,’ he mouthed to no one in particular.

Aziraphale looked back at Gabriel in shock, his superior’s strange behaviour throwing Aziraphale out of his own thoughts, but the moment of vulnerability had already passed. Gabriel nodded decisively, ‘And that’s your next assignment. You’re to get closer to Crowley. Get to know him better, take things a step or two further.’

‘Further?’ Aziraphale repeated, eyes widening.

‘Follow your instincts, Aziraphale,’ Gabriel added with a wink, ‘God was quite clear that you would know what to do. She equipped us with instincts, just as she did with the humans. Ways to get closer, to become one with each other.’ Gabriel’s voice trailed off. He grinned wildly, ‘So, I dare say you already know what to do. You just need to get on with it.’

Aziraphale blanched.

‘I’ll pop back in a bit. See how you are getting on with the…’ Gabriel waved to fingers about in a gesture that Aziraphale suspected was supposed to be indecent. Or maybe that was just him. Aziraphale flushed a deep shade of red at the suspected implication regardless.

‘Oh, and one more thing,’ Gabriel added, with a raised finger, ‘The revelation was for Heaven only. Our other halves know nothing of this. Although they are our demonic halves, we must understand this new knowledge fully before we reveal it to them. It is a delicate matter. If us angels have difficulty getting our heads around it how much harder will it be for them? So schtum, huh? You are in the unique position of being able to get closer to your other half without suspicion and without needing to declare the latest revelation. You understand, don’t you, Aziraphale?’

Aziraphale gulped, ‘I- I suppose I can…’

‘They are composed of the bits of ourselves that would have driven us from God,’ Gabriel shook his head in awe, ‘they were damned so that we might be saved, you understand?’

Aziraphale’s heart tore in two and he gasped. Of course, of course that’s what this meant. Crowley had saved Aziraphale too many times to count. Was this true? Had he saved him right from the Beginning with his very existence? Aziraphale bit hard down on his lower lip. But then, all of Crowley’s suffering, his torment in Hell, that suffering was meant for Aziraphale. He was meant to share in that with him. Aziraphale’s heart tore in two.

‘They will not trust this revelation,’ Gabriel continued on, not giving Aziraphale a moment to process any of it, ‘It is in their nature not to trust, not to have faith and we cannot hold it against them, can we?’

‘No, no I don’t suppose we can,’ Aziraphale replied, voice wavering as he considered Crowley’s likely reaction if he simply dumped all of this in front of him. Gabriel was right. He wouldn’t believe it. He’d suspect Gabriel of manipulation. Why he’d suspect God herself. Better for Aziraphale to simply tell him his feelings first. Even if Crowley didn’t reciprocate, that he could, at the very least, believe. And once he believed that, Aziraphale could explain about the revelation.

‘You understand now how critical this mission is?’ Gabriel said, eyes narrowing, taking in Aziraphale’s reaction and measuring it carefully, ‘you hold the very salvation of Hell in your hands. As we become whole again, they’ll be able to know God again. We’ll raise them up with our divine love!’

‘Oh,’ Aziraphale gasped. But of course. He could spare Crowley any further suffering.

‘You alone can find a way to get through to our other halves, a way to make us all whole again,’ Gabriel continued building up momentum, ‘And that, Aziraphale, is what the Lord herself now commands us to do.’

Aziraphale nodded quickly, the pressure of it coming down upon him and settling uncomfortably in his stomach like a poorly disgusted meal. He understood. Oh, yes. He understood perfectly.

Gabriel grinned with satisfaction, ‘I knew you’d get it. You were never a highflyer but you always tried, huh, Aziraphale? You always tried.’ He laughed and gestured widely, ‘And look at you now! The lives of millions resting on your shoulders! You and you alone are the final hope of both Heaven and Hell!’ And with that final thought shared Gabriel clicked his fingers and disappeared.

Aziraphale was alone once again. The London traffic hummed outside, humanity continuing on oblivious to the new revelations that were tearing through Heaven, that had flipped the life of an angel on its head. Aziraphale fell back in his chair, heart thumping wildly. He licked his dry lips and tried to still his shaking hands. A moment later they were twisting in his lap. How could this be? Oh, dear God above, how could this be?


	2. Chapter 2

Aziraphale paced up and down wringing his hands together, chewing nervously at his bottom lip and trying to find the right words. He had to tell Crowley. He simply had to. He had to put the depths of his affection into words, clearly and unambiguously. Today. No more excuses. No more pussyfooting about. It wasn’t just about Aziraphale’s happiness anymore. Oh, no. The salvation of Hell depended upon it. The wholeness of every angel in Heaven depended on it. The Lord herself commanded it.

Aziraphale would find his courage. He would wrench it from his very depths, just as he had done when the entire world was in jeopardy. Aziraphale would confess his love. He would follow his… He swallowed hard. He would follow his- his- instincts. Aziraphale shuddered and quickly suppressed the wild, heated visions that came into his head unbidden, the deliciously lascivious things his instincts seemed to think he should do. Focus, he chastised himself. He would confess his love. The salvation of Hell rested on it. The future well-being of every angel and demon in Creation rested on it. The very wholeness of every angel and demon rested on it.

To think that for every angel in Heaven there was a demon to whom they were connected as profoundly as he was connected to Crowley! Shocking! Incredible! And every other angel had been deprived of the opportunity to know their other half. And every angel had been saved by the very creation of their other half. Aziraphale smiled fondly. Crowley had, in fact, saved him from the very Beginning. He shouldn’t be so surprised by that. Aziraphale imagined for a moment what his life would have been like without Crowley and it was a cold and dark place. He had no wish to go there. He shivered. It was little wonder that every other angel had failed the Almighty’s test. After all, Aziraphale himself would never have tried to save the world without Crowley. The angels needed their demons. With them, why, Heaven itself would transform too.

It must happen. He must confess his love. He must confess his love and become closer to Crowley than ever before. What was the wording the humans used? Oh yes, of one flesh. Yes. Aziraphale shuddered. He couldn’t quite grasp what it even meant for them, but it filled him with a strange compelling yearning. Aziraphale had to trust that his God-given instincts would lead him right. He had to trust that, together, Aziraphale and Crowley would find a way to restore wholeness to everyone. Aziraphale’s heart soared at the vision. What would Heaven and Hell be like then? Transformed. Reborn. Every demon risen anew with the power of divine love! Every angel complete and whole again. His resolve deepened.

Aziraphale felt sure it was all something Crowley would approve of. Not now. Not if Aziraphale simply laid it all at his feet. No, he’d question the revelation and God’s intentions. He’d pick at the revelation until it unravelled. But, ultimately, if Aziraphale began by sharing his feelings, if he acted on instinct and brought them together again. Then, at that point, Crowley would understand if Aziraphale explained about the revelation. And he would want his own new happiness to be shared by the other demons too. Of course, he would.

The important part was, Aziraphale had to begin with his feelings. That was the beginning. It had to be. That was something that Crowley could believe. Even if Crowley didn’t reciprocate, he would believe Aziraphale’s confession of love. Crowley could tell when his best friend was speaking sincerely. Then, Aziraphale would act on his instincts. At this point the plan became fuzzy and rather heated but Aziraphale simply had to trust that his own God-given instincts would lead him right. He’d follow his instincts and it would bring them together. Once they’d found wholeness again, once they’d both tasted the sweetness of that, then and only then would Aziraphale explain about the revelation. At that point, Crowley would surely understand. Crowley would surely agree to save Hell and to restore everyone to wholeness. Hell was a horrid place, Aziraphale knew that. He knew that not just from Crowley’s accounts, but from his own time in there, in Crowley’s body. If Crowley could do something to save his fellow demons from torment, to rise them up, then he surely would. And together, they would find a way for that to happen. But it had to begin with Aziraphale confessing his feelings first. That was the only way for it to begin.

Aziraphale sighed, his relentless pacing halting for a moment, his eyes fluttering shut. Right, he thought, consciously bracing himself. Right. It can’t be that hard. It was just saying words. To Crowley. Speaking words in the presence of Crowley. Aziraphale had been doing that since, well, since the Beginning. How hard could it possibly be? Aziraphale cleared his throat and opened his eyes.

‘So, Crowley, my dear…’ Aziraphale began. He sighed and bit his bottom lip. He started again, ‘Crowley, I am in love with you.’ He whimpered and clutched his hands together. With a deep breath he tried again, ‘Crowley, the fact of the matter is that I hold you in tremendously high regard. Quite- quite passionate regard, in fact. In- in- fact I adore you.’ He shook his head. It was so much. Too much. Aziraphale felt raw and exposed. And Crowley wasn’t even here. What if Crowley rejected him? No, no, Aziraphale chastised himself. He couldn’t think like that. If Crowley didn’t reciprocate, he wouldn’t be so callous as to toss Aziraphale aside. They’d still be friends. And Aziraphale would still need to find a way to make them whole again. The Lord commanded it. And Aziraphale had to find his resolve.

Aziraphale started to pace again and an idea began to take shape. Perhaps, instead of blurting out his feelings straight away, perhaps, Aziraphale could build up to it somehow. He could begin by talking about that night together, when the world didn’t end. Or their friendship over the past six thousand years. Or…Oh! Aziraphale clapped his hands, delighted as the idea struck him. He couldn’t mention the revelation. But he could sow the seeds of it. He could refer to the concept of other halves. He could use that to explain how he felt about Crowley. The humans had the very same idea, after all. Crowley would understand very well. Oh, yes. Aziraphale sighed a deep, shuddering sigh of relief. That felt like a much safer place to begin. More intellectual. More like one of their usual conversations. Less like vomiting up his still beating heart and waiting for Crowley to stab it. Aziraphale pushed that imagery out of his mind with a decisive flick.

Aziraphale cleared his throat, put on a bright smile and tried it out, ‘Crowley, dear boy, remember Plato? Do you remember his peculiar idea about how humankind was split in two? What if it was the right idea, but the wrong species!’ Aziraphale chuckled hysterically and added with faux brightness, ‘yes, that’s right, I’m saying you’re my other half! Do you feel the same way?’

Aziraphale groaned, head falling into his hands. He rubbed at his face and sighed. ‘No, no,’ he said, shaking his head, ‘Crowley always hated Plato. Entirely the wrong way to start. Right. Right. Other halves just don’t mention Plato.’

Azairaphale straightened up and put on a bright smile, determined to try again, ‘Crowley, dear, Crowley, you know how the humans talk about other halves two beings who completed each- each- other, opposites, but opposites who belong together, why there’s also the whole yin and yang concept, isn’t there? Crowley, the thing is…’ he gulped, his eyes fluttered shut and he whispered in a rush, ‘you’re my other half and you make me whole and I’m desperately in love with you.’ He winced and walked dejectedly over to his desk slumping into his chair, head in his hands. What was he going to do? Why was it so hard to say?

‘Alright, angel?’

‘Crowley!’ Aziraphale cried out, delighted at the company even as it made his heart speed with anxiety. He looked up and smiled widely. ‘You’re here,’ he sighed, the pleasure of Crowley’s company cutting through the terror of it.

Crowley stood still, a step or two into the Bookshop, watching Aziraphale carefully. He slipped his sunglasses off with one smooth movement and flung them onto the coffee table. At the sight of Crowley’s amber eyes, Aziraphale’s breath caught. His eyes darted away, giving himself time to adjust, before they were drawn back irresistibly. Aziraphale understood why Crowley wore the sunglasses. It was so much more practical than handling the reactions of the humans with miracle after miracle. But, in his heart of hearts, he thought it a shame, to hide eyes so very captivating. Had he ever told Crowley that? No, he supposed he hadn’t.

Crowley cocked a hip to one side, slipping his hands into his pockets. How, Aziraphale could not fathom, they were so very tight. A miracle he suspected. His eyes wandered over Crowley’s legs. 

‘You said to come,’ Crowley drawled, ‘you said you had something to tell me. Sounded important ‘n all so,’ Crowley shrugged and strode over to the couch, not so much sitting as falling onto it. He slouched in its embrace.

‘Right,’ Aziraphale said, mouth suddenly dry, as he sat down on his chair, facing Crowley. His eyes darted over to his telephone, ‘I did say that, didn’t I?’

Crowley nodded.

‘I also said at your convenience, dear,’ Aziraphale said with a nervous grin, ‘I hadn’t expected you quite so soon.’

Crowley shrugged, ‘you said that, but it sounded important, so I came right over.’

‘Right,’ Aziraphale nodded chewing his lip. Of course, he did. If only Aziraphale had the words. Still, he doubted that more practise would have yielded anything better than the mess he already had. Sometimes you just had to get on with it.

Crowley leaned back in the couch and waved a hand around for Aziraphale to speak.

‘Right. Right,’ Aziraphale said, wringing hands together, ‘well, no time like the present,’ he said, his voice taking on a higher pitch, ‘better out than in,’ he said higher still.

Crowley licked his lips and waited.

‘Right,’ Aziraphale nodded, ‘yes. Best get on with it,’ he looked across to Crowley.

Crowley raised a single eyebrow. He leaned forward and said with softly, his voice brimming with kindness, ‘you had something you wanted to tell me?’

‘Yes,’ Aziraphale agreed, ‘I did. I did. I do. I need to, in fact,’ he took a deep steadying breath. Just say it. Just say the three little words. Take the plunge. Cut yourself open and say it, ‘Crowley…’ Aziraphale began. He cleared his throat. Say it. I love you. I love you. Crowley, I love you. He cleared his throat again, ‘Crowley,’ he said at a higher pitch. Say it. I love you. I love you. I love you. ‘Do you remember Plato?’

Crowley snorted, ‘hm. Total wanker.’

‘Ah,’ Aziraphale said, tilting his head and frowning, ‘yes,’ he cleared his throat, ‘Though he did have some interesting theories.’

Crowley snorted, ‘nah, angel. Socrates was the genius. Plato was a hack,’ he began to chuckle, ‘hey, remember when Diogenes owned him by waving around a plucked chicken?’ Crowley waved a hand around as if it contained such a chicken, and imitating Diogenes cried out, ‘behold, a man!’ Crowley cackled, ‘imagine being destroyed by a guy who sleeps in a jar!’

Aziraphale laughed heartily. ‘I’d forgotten that,’ he said shaking his head, ‘look, forget about Plato.’

‘Gladly!’ Crowley said with a laugh.

‘I was more thinking of the whole concept, you know the concept of- of- yin and yang,’ Aziraphale said.

Crowley stared unblinkingly, ‘Yin and yang?’

‘Yes,’ Aziraphale ploughed on, ‘complimentary interdependent forces underlying reality, each appears, at first glance to be the enemy of the other but, in fact, they rely upon each other, they make each other better? It- it- makes sense, don’t you think?’

Crowley’s eyes narrowed and he frowned as he took this in. Eventually, he replied, ‘Yeah, I agree.’

‘Do you? You see what I’m saying?’ Aziraphale said excitedly.

Crowley shrugged, ‘Sure. Heaven and Hell are a lot like that. I get what you mean.’

‘Oh,’ Aziraphale chewed his bottom lip, ‘No, not- not quite. I mean, to me, the concept is also quite a bit like Plato’s concept of the other half.’

‘Is it?’ Crowley frowned again.

‘Two complimentary halves that together,’ Aziraphale drew his hands together in front of himself, ‘that together become one perfect whole.’

Crowley nodded, ‘Alright. Sure. If you put it like that. And that’s Heaven and Hell, isn’t it? Each dependent on the other? Is that what you’ve realised?’

Aziraphale rubbed his face with his hands. He sighed, ‘not quite.’

Crowley nodded, ‘Alright, then. Try again, angel.’

Aziraphale chewed his bottom lip, trying to find the words. Crowley waited patiently.

‘Remember,’ Aziraphale said chewing at his bottom lip as he tried to find another indirect path that would nevertheless led to the correct destination, ‘remember the whole Armageddon thing?’

Crowley snorted, ‘yeah kinda burned into my memory, angel. Hard to forget, that.’

‘Right,’ Aziraphale smiled nervously and swallowed hard, fingers twisting, ‘of course. But so, so you remember well… after?’

‘After?’ Crowley repeated, sitting up more, gaze fixed unblinkingly on Aziraphale.

‘Yes, at- at- your place,’ Aziraphale said softly.

Crowley’s eyes bled gold to the edge. ‘Yesss, of courssse,’ he replied.

‘It was,’ Aziraphale began. He swallowed, ‘um…it was nice, wasn’t it?’

‘Nicssse?’ Crowley repeated, voice waiving with some undefined emotion.

Aziraphale frowned realising in an instant that he had chosen entirely the wrong word. He back tracked desperately, ‘not nice. Definitely not nice. I mean it was the end of the world, how could it have been nice?’ Aziraphale laughed wildly. He waved the laugh away and frowned seriously, ‘what a mean is it was all so very clear, wasn’t it? Who we were and what it meant. It didn’t even need saying. You felt it too, didn’t you? You feel it still?’ He looked into Crowley’s unblinkingly amber gaze, hands brushing nervously at his own trousers, ‘Please, oh please, tell me you did. Tell me you do.’

Crowley nodded slowly, still staring, ‘yeah,’ he swallowed, ‘I felt it too, Aziraphale,’ he smiled a smile tinged with sadness and added tenderly, ‘it’s alright, angel. You don’t have Heaven anymore, but you’ll always have me. Our own side. I won’t let you down.’

Aziraphale’s forehead knotted up. ‘Right,’ he said with a tight little smile, ‘right.’

Oh, dear. Why was it so hard to be clear? Not just our own side. But also, I love you. I passionately love you. You stupid demon. Aziraphale’s gaze fell down to his hands twisting in his lap. What more could he say? How could he find the right words? If only there was some kind of guide, a set of rules, a correct procedure for this sort of thing.

‘Let me take you to lunch, angel,’ Crowley said with a wave of his hand.

Aziraphale looked up and smiled gratefully, ‘that would be lovely.’

Crowley offered to take Aziraphale anywhere he wanted, and the answer was easy to give. Aziraphale chose the Ritz. He hoped that the location might inspiration him, might help him find the words he needed. Any meal with Crowley was a delight, and so Aziraphale set aside his anxiety, and let himself enjoy it, even if he was still looking for an opportunity to confess everything. He couldn’t help but notice the soft, almost sad, way that Crowley looked at him across the table, or the fact that Crowley absolutely doted on him throughout the meal, even insisting on pouring his tea. What a dear. As always, it made Aziraphale feel so very special, so cared for.

And, afterwards, as Crowley opened the door to the Bentley for Aziraphale to clamber in so he could drive him home, Aziraphale had an idea. Maybe he didn’t need to start with words. Maybe he could start with actions. If he started there, perhaps Crowley would understand his bumbling words. Oh, yes. There were rules about this kind of thing, weren’t there? Well, not rules as such but conventions, customs. He could look to the humans. They’d been confessing all kinds of feelings to each other for millennia. They’d been pairing up for millennia. Aziraphale turned the idea over in his mind as Crowley drove and convinced himself that it was sound.

‘What if,’ he said, eyes flicking across to Crowley perched at the driving wheel, ‘what if, tomorrow, I take _you_ out?’

Crowley looked across to Aziraphale, not slowing down at all despite taking his eyes off the road, ‘and how would that be different, exactly?’

‘I mean,’ Aziraphale said, ‘we’ll do something _you_ like.’

Crowley snorted, turning back to the road, ‘I like what we do, angel. Where’d you get the idea that I didn’t?’

‘Oh, I know that,’ Aziraphale said with a wave of his hands, ‘but we can do something special for you, together,’ he frowned, thinking this through. What would Crowley like? What were the kinds of things the humans did in this situation? 

‘Oh, I know!’ Aziraphale exclaimed as it came to him, ‘We’ll go to the pictures.’ He wiggled in excitement at the idea. It was perfect. Crowley was quite the cinephile and it was, Aziraphale was given to understand, considered a classic setting for a date. Imitating human dating conventions was an excellent place to start. They knew all about other halves, after all. Aziraphale didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it straight away.

Crowley snorted again, ‘The pictures? You haven’t been to the pictures in fifty years. At least.’

‘Well, I’m taking you tomorrow,’ Aziraphale replied with a tone that suggested there would be no debate.

Crowley’s gaze flicked back to Aziraphale and held there awhile. Eventually he turned back to the road. ‘Alright then,’ he said softly. 


	3. Chapter 3

Aziraphale had spent the evening before looking up the latest films on his computer. His computer shouldn’t have even been able to connect to the internet, but as usual it had shivered and did as its angelic owner expected. Aziraphale had carefully read each blurb and frowned over their descriptions in the soft glow of his faithful old machine. He hadn’t watched any trailers. His computer hadn’t shown him any trailers because Aziraphale hadn’t expected to see him. But blurbs, those he was quite familiar with. He expected blurbs and his computer provided them.

The historical drama had appealed to Aziraphale the most. He could tell just from the description that they’d gotten several details quite wrong. But then, humans often did. Light on history, heavy on drama. Still, it appealed to Aziraphale’s tastes. But Crowley would never go for it not even with the amusing inaccuracies. And this was meant to be about Crowley.

Crowley was quite fond of action films. So Aziraphale had given those some serious consideration. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to find a James Bond film available in the cinemas. There was a film about two spies from competing agencies that Aziraphale thought Crowley might find amusing. But eventually he had decided that, given his purpose, only a romance would do. And on that basis, he’d chosen what Crowley had later explained was colloquially known as a romcom.

Crowley explained the basic premises of the genre—including that light comedy was part and parcel of it— to Aziraphale as he pulled the Bentley into a miraculously close park. Aziraphale nodded with satisfaction, ‘Excellent. I chose well then. You’ve always liked the soft-hearted funny ones.’

Crowley snorted, ‘if you mean I don’t like to watch a whole lot of gloomy misery, then sure thing, angel.’

Aziraphale chuckled, certain in the knowledge that he had picked the right film. Aziraphale made a point of purchasing of the tickets, the drinks, and a large popcorn to share, waving Crowley away multiple times to do so. The cinema itself was blissfully empty, exactly as Aziraphale had hoped. He didn’t stop to wonder why. Aziraphale let Crowley guide them to the best seats, which evidently, according to Crowley, happened to be right in the middle.

Aziraphale wiggled happily in the cinema seat and smiled brightly as he looked around the empty cinema. It really had been a long time since he’d been to the pictures. He’d chosen the pictures to fit with Crowley’s interests. But now he was here, he was thrilled. Why had he left it so long?

A soft smile tugged at Crowley’s mouth. He was amused by Aziraphale’s enthusiasm no doubt, as he often was. He snorted and put the popcorn into the holder in between their seats.

‘Oh, it’s all in colour now, isn’t it?’ Aziraphale said in an excited rush as he remembered.

Crowley cocked a single eyebrow and groaned, ‘angel! Please tell me you’ve seen a movie in colour.’

‘I have!’ Aziraphale replied, a dash defensively, ‘of course I have! Just not very many…’

Crowley shook his head and groaned, ‘we should have come to a sci-fi you could marvel at the special effects.’

‘ _Special_ effects?’ Aziraphale asked with a frown.

‘Uh-ha,’ Crowley answered, ‘it isn’t just some guy in a big lizard suit anymore. And the weapons aren’t just I don’t know plungers with silver paint. It all looks real.’

Aziraphale was about to ask what exactly Crowley meant by plungers with silver paint and exactly what made the special effects so special when the lights dimmed and they were blasted with music.

‘Oh, goodness!’ Aziraphale cried out, ‘it’s starting.’

Crowley grinned, ‘It’ll be a billion years of ads first.’

‘A billion years?’ Aziraphale repeated, teasingly.

Crowley shrugged, smiling sideways, ‘there abouts. Feels like it anyway.’

Aziraphale chuckled and turned to the screen where colourful ice-creams danced and sang and were enthusiastically eaten.

‘Gosh,’ Aziraphale whispered, ‘even the ads have gotten better, haven’t they?’

‘I’ll duck out and get you an ice-cream, angel,’ Crowley replied with a laugh.

‘Oh, would you?’ Aziraphale gasped, delighted, ‘Oh, but I don’t want you to miss the movie, dear boy.’

‘I won’t,’ Crowley replied, raising a single eyebrow, ‘A billion years, remember?’

By the time Crowley had returned the ads were finished and the final preview was rolling, the preview for the historical drama. Crowley’s face scrunched up in distaste as he slipped back into his seat, ‘Bloody war of the roses, what a nightmare. Anyway, they’ve got it all wrong. Here’s your ice-cream, angel.’

Aziraphale took the ice-cream and unwrapped it, biting into the hard chocolate coating. The vanilla ice-cream beneath burst out. Another little blast of music announced the beginning of the film.

Aziraphale sat back in his seat, ate his ice-cream, and let the film wash over him. It was good, very good. Aziraphale empathised with the protagonist at once: a fussy, anxious academic in the field of English Literature. The protagonist was awkward, unsure, and very obviously helplessly in love with his terribly glamorous best friend, an actress famous for her Shakespearean roles. In fact, their mutual love of Shakespeare was the premise for their meeting and initial friendship. Aziraphale winced in sympathy as the protagonist struggled to find the words to express his feelings. He chuckled merrily as each attempt led to a ridiculous comedy of errors, many of which referenced the bard’s own work. As Aziraphale finished his ice-cream, Crowley offered up the popcorn box with a little shake. Aziraphale smiled and took a few kernels.

But, as the movie continued, Aziraphale’s connection with the protagonist unravelled. The protagonist persisted through comic error after comic error. He never wavered. As anxious as he was, he always found his courage. And when the film climaxed with a loud and public declaration of love in verse no less, Aziraphale found himself frowning and tutting. How exactly had the awkward lead found the courage for that? And, of course, his love was reciprocated. Of course, the glamorous best friend adored him in return. Really, it stretched believability and Aziraphale found himself quite inexplicably annoyed. Crowley looked across to him curiously and Aziraphale tried to mask his reaction by offering him some popcorn. Crowley took the popcorn, and, eyebrows raised, turned back to the screen.

As the final credits rolled, Crowley turned to Aziraphale, ‘Not your cup of tea, I take it? I mean you seemed to find some of it amusing early on but,’ he shrugged, ‘you didn’t take to the whole get together scene.’

‘Oh, no, no…’ Aziraphale answered carefully, ‘it was very good. Honestly, it was. I found it very amusing. And I loved all the colours, the references to Shakespeare and the music…’

‘The soundtrack?’ Crowley said with a laugh.

‘Oh yes,’ Aziraphale replied, ‘I can see how it has all come in leaps and bounds, hasn’t it? I’d very much like to see those special effects that you were talking about.’

Crowley nodded, ‘Alright. I’ll take you to a sci-fi movie sometime, then. I mean, action movies have pretty awesome special effects too, but somehow I think you’ll be more impressed by an alien than an exploding train.’

Aziraphale smiled and nodded rapidly, ‘I’d like that.’

‘Maybe romance just isn’t your thing,’ Crowley threw out with a deliberately casual shrug.

‘Oh no. No, I- I- wouldn’t say that,’ Aziraphale answered, licking his lips, ‘I wouldn’t say that at all.’

Crowley smiled, a little sideways smile, ‘is that right?’ 

Aziraphale flexed his hand. Crowley’s hand was so close. It was sitting casually on the armrest beside him. They’d held hands the night after Armageddon. They could hold hands again. Aziraphale just needed to reach out and take it. But just as he decided to do so, just as he began to move, Crowley took the popcorn box and stood up.

‘Sushi?’ Crowley asked, ‘That place you love is nearby.’

Aziraphale silently cursed himself. ‘Yes,’ he said, forcing a smile, ‘that would be lovely.’

‘Walk?’ Crowley added, ‘It isn’t far.’

Aziraphale nodded.

As they exited the pictures together and began their walk, Aziraphale turned to Crowley, ‘ _you_ liked the film, didn’t you?’

Crowley nodded, ‘yeah. Sure. It was a laugh. To be honest the genre kinda peaked when they all had Meg Ryan in them. But that one was properly good.’

‘Meg Ryan?’ Aziraphale repeated, face scrunched up.

‘Hm,’ Crowley answered, not explaining himself at all, ‘After the sci-fi, I can take you to a gloomy one. A real awful drama.’

‘But you wouldn’t like that, dear boy,’ Aziraphale said with a frown.

Crowley shrugged and grinned a sideways grin, ‘Bet you’d like to see that awful one about the war of the roses.’

Aziraphale chuckled, ‘I confess I would.’

Crowley snorted. ‘Ridiculous. You were there, angel. And that was bad enough.’

Aziraphale shrugged.

‘Sorry you didn’t enjoy the movie today,’ Crowley said softly.

‘Oh no,’ Aziraphale said with a shake of his head, ‘no, I enjoyed it. I truly did. It was most amusing, and the acting was delightful. I just found the climax a bit implausible.’

Crowley frowned, ‘Whaddya mean?’

‘Oh, well the protagonist was so… awkward. Terribly unpopular too. Not exactly successful. His best friend on the other hand was glamorous, successful, confident. A real go-getter. She could have had anyone. I don’t think she’d have fallen for…’ Aziraphale’s voice trailed off as he realised that Crowley had stopped and was staring at him.

‘What?’ Crowley spluttered.

Aziraphale frowned, forehead creasing in confusion.

‘The protagonist was kind and clever and gorgeous. He was so alive. He took such joy in the world. You must have seen the way his face lit up at, well, everything? His best friend,’ Crowley gestured widely and snorted, ‘She was just lucky he gave her the time of day at all. He- he was everything to her. She’d have spiralled down years ago without him.’

Aziraphale chuckled, ‘No, no. She was clever and wily and glamourous, Crowley! She had the world at her feet and the confidence to snatch it up! What did she have to spiral down about?’

‘It was an act, angel. Did you miss the bit about her being an actress? All an act,’ Crowley laughed, ‘She was a terrified, idiotic dork who got lucky. A dork who was madly in love with him the whole time. It was so obvious. She was practically drooling over him.’

Aziraphale shook his head, ‘No, no that’s ridiculous.’

‘Is it?’ Crowley said softly.

Aziraphale gulped. They kept walking.

‘Anyway, the climax scene,’ Aziraphale continued, still trying again to explain, ‘the way the protagonist confessed his love—in spontaneous verse no less—in public when he believed she did not care for him at all. He could have been crushed. Utterly broken. He could have lost his best friend forever. How did he find the courage? How did he even find the words? To say something so…’ Aziraphale’s voice trailed off and his cheeks warmed.

Crowley licked his lips, brow furrowed, ‘Hm…’

‘Maybe it’s a human thing. They’ve always been braver than us, don’t you think? Better at seizing the moment and all that,’ Aziraphale said in a rush.

‘Maybe,’ Crowley replied, chewing at his bottom lip.

They made the rest of the journey in contemplative silence. When they got to the Sushi restaurant, Crowley held the door open for Aziraphale. They found a table together—a little booth—ordered Aziraphale’s favourite sushi rolls and waited. Crowley began to tap out a little rhythm on the table with his fingers. Just as it was getting annoying, he stopped and sighed.

Aziraphale frowned, ‘Penny for your thoughts, dear?’

Crowley clicked his tongue, ‘Why are they better at it, do you think?’

‘Oh,’ Aziraphale gasped, startled. He chewed at his bottom lip and thought it through. ‘The humans?’

‘Hm…’ Crowley replied.

Aziraphale turned it over carefully in his mind. ‘Death, I suppose?’ he said eventually, a little crease in his forehead, ‘If they didn’t seize the moment it’d all be over.’

Crowley made a little incomprehensible noise of agreement.

‘I mean, consider the protagonist in the in the film. In fact, consider the very prospect of romance for any human,’ Aziraphale licked his lips, ‘When you think about it, humans really do have to get on with putting their feelings out there, or they’d never couple up at all, let alone find the right person to couple up with. They live such short lives.’

‘And the having kids. If they want kids, they’ve gotta go even faster, don’t they?’ Crowley jumped in.

‘Oh, yes!’ Aziraphale gasped, ‘Gosh, they’ve really got to get a move on, haven’t they?’

‘So, it’s just necessity?’ Crowley said, ‘not courage at all?’

‘Courage born of necessity,’ Aziraphale said with a sigh. He thought of his own actions in the lead up to Armageddon, ‘you know, I think it often is, courage I mean. We find out mettle when we need too.’

Crowley snorted. ‘Except we’ve always got tomorrow. So why risk it all now?’

Aziraphale looked up, meeting Crowley’s eyes through his sunglasses—oh how he wished he could see the full amber eyes underneath right now—he smiled, ‘Yes, yes, exactly. It makes it so very hard, doesn’t it? To make the leap?’

‘Especially when it risks everything you have,’ Crowley replied, his voice soft. Aziraphale's heart thudded in his chest. Yes, that’s it. That’s it exactly. Could it be that Crowley felt the same way? Was he just as nervous about confessing feelings of his own?

Crowley cleared his throat. ‘Also, they get used to taking risks, don’t they? Lotta practice,’ He gestured widely, ‘We get shot in the head, we just end up with an evening of paperwork. Not that big a risk, is it?’

Aziraphale frowned, his eyes darting away from Crowley, ‘Yet if we get our heart crushed, it’s crushed forever. The pain bleeds out for all eternity. An eternity of friendship lost.’

‘Exactly,’ Crowley choked out. Aziraphale's eyes darted back to Crowley. Could it be? The very air crackled with anticipation. Say it. Just say it. It is necessary. It is necessary now so find your courage and make the leap. ‘Crowley…’ he whispered, heart thudding in his chest.

‘Aziraphale-san!’

‘Oh, sushi,’ Aziraphale smiled coyly and conversed with the waitress in smooth Japanese, thanking her profusely and asking after her children as she placed the plates on the table. By the time the waitress had left and Aziraphale had turned back to Crowley his courage was lost. The moment had passed. Crowley ate several sushi rolls, and then settled in to watch Aziraphale finish the rest, sipping his sake.

Aziraphale puzzled over the conversation as he ate. Aziraphale had spent so long berating himself for his own lack of courage. But he hadn’t truly considered that voicing it all might feel just as risky to Crowley as it did to Aziraphale. It was hard to fathom. Crowley shying away from a risk. But as they’d discussed, most of Crowley’s risks weren’t truly that risky. It gave Aziraphale hope. Perhaps Crowley did fully reciprocate. Perhaps once Aziraphale confessed all, Crowley would too. Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel that they’d made significant progress. No, he hadn’t said the words aloud. But he’d come close. And he’d gained clarity. Perhaps, Crowley had too. Perhaps Crowley had a hint of Aziraphale’s feelings. 

But where to now? The pictures had seemed to shift them along, ever so slightly. So perhaps the best idea would be to follow that up with more in the same vein? Something with similar romantic potential but taking things to the next level. What would a human do? What would a human consider a step further than the pictures and a nice dinner together? A clear romantic gesture? Then it hit him. Aziraphale smiled.

‘What would you say to a weekend away?’ Aziraphale said as he patted at his mouth with a serviette.

‘A weekend away?’ Crowley repeated hoarsely.

Aziraphale nodded.

‘What, together?’ Crowley spluttered.

Aziraphale nodded again.

Crowley stared at Aziraphale for a moment. Then he shrugged and leaned back nonchalantly, ‘Alright. Sure. Whatever you want, angel.’


	4. Chapter 4

The weekend away began with a drive. Crowley was at his happiest driving and that alone made it the perfect way to begin, even if Aziraphale had to remind himself of that fact multiple times as he clutched at the seat and bit down hard on his lip. When they got to the Le Shuttle, the car transport train between Kent and Calais, Aziraphale could relax. The car transport train, at least, moved at a sensible speed. It also provided the perfect moment for Aziraphale to reach into the back and bring out the picnic basket of snacks. The final leg of the journey, the drive from Calais to their destination, was accompanied by beautiful scenery, scenery that Aziraphale had not had the opportunity to appreciate in some time. He watched it rush past the window with delight.

In choosing their destination, Aziraphale had focussed upon romance. He had invested a significant amount of time discussing all options with the very helpful young man who ran the travel agency down the street from his own Bookshop, carefully leafing through the many brochures kept on the premises. In the six thousand years that Crowley and Aziraphale had spent on the Earth there was not much that they hadn’t already seen. So, it wasn’t a matter of choosing some place new. Rather, it was a matter of choosing the right setting, the kind of setting that would facilitate the loosening of Aziraphale’s own tongue. Aziraphale had been tempted by the idea of renting a little cottage in the South Downs. But, in the end, he had filed that brochure away for future use. The focus of this weekend away was on romance. And as the lovely young man had said, if it was romance that Aziraphale was wanting, well, there was one destination that was a consistent favourite for that kind of holiday: Paris. Besides, Aziraphale had fancied the opportunity to indulge in his love of crepes. The nice young man at the travel agency had convinced Aziraphale to book charming little hotel in Ile Saint-Louis, a little island in the centre of Paris. He had also passed onto the hotel operator, with a nod and a wink to Aziraphale, that the holiday was of a romantic nature. Aziraphale didn’t see why that kind of disclosure was necessary but he had smiled politely at the gesture. The young man was dynamic and professional. Surely, he knew what he was doing.

As Aziraphale excited the Bentley and took in the Parisian atmosphere, he smiled to himself, confident in his choices. The hotel, indeed, looked positively charming.

Crowley smiled across at Aziraphale as he held the door open for him, ‘nice choice,’ he said with a wink.

Aziraphale flushed with pleasure.

Crowley didn’t blink at the fact that Aziraphale had booked one room rather than two. They’d shared a room before, after all. That was nothing new.

But when they ventured up the stairs, flung open the door, and discovered there was only one large bed—one large bed covered in red rose petals—Crowley faltered. His mouth opened and closed several times and he spluttered something utterly incomprehensible. Ears a little pink, he turned to Aziraphale, ‘Ah…they may have gotten the wrong idea.’

Aziraphale flushed. Ah, so this was why the young man in the travel agency had wanted to explain the romantic nature of the holiday to the hotel operator. He put is luggage on the floor and began to wring his hands, ‘Oh, I’m sure they throw a few rose petals on the bed for all their guests. They are French, after all, and oh look, there’s chocolates and champagne too. Sets a nice atmosphere, don’t you think?’

‘Ah,’ Crowley answered eyes flicking to the chocolates and the champagne on the little table. He turned back to the bed and frowned running a hand through his hair, ‘but there’s still only one bed, angel. One bed. Hang on a tick, I’ll clear this up,’ he clicked his fingers and smiled, gesturing widely, ‘a twin room has just miraculously become available. I’ll be back in a moment.’

Aziraphale knew that he could not let this unexpected opportunity slip through his fingers. He quickly clicked his fingers himself, ensuring that all of the twin rooms were booked up, ‘I’m afraid that is quite unnecessary and- and- plain wrong,’ he answered, building up momentum, ‘And- And- I will not stand for it.’ He stomped his foot for emphasis.

‘What?’ Crowley said with a surprised laugh, ‘but you miracle yourself up bookings all the time!’

‘And I won’t be doing it anymore. What about the poor people whose room we’d be taking? No, no, Crowley, we’ll get on just fine here,’ Aziraphale replied, ‘I mean I don’t even sleep on any regular basis.’

Crowley frowned, ‘you’ll want somewhere comfortable to read, though,’ Crowley made a wide gesture, that ended with pointing towards the large arm chair in the room, ‘And that chair is hardly looking like a comfortable spot to perch all night.’

Aziraphale’s gaze flicked to terribly fancy chair at the side of the room, all red and gold and elaborate carved legs, but, yes, Crowley was right, likely to be on the uncomfortable side. Aziraphale shook his head. He had no intention of sitting on that chair all night anyway. That would be entirely beside the point. He had every intention of taking full advantage of this little turn of events.

‘It is a queen bed, Crowley,’ Aziraphale replied, turning back to Crowley, ‘I’m sure I can sit on one side and read, and you can stretch out on the rest of the bed without difficulty. We were both in your bed at one stage the night of… well…’ His voice trailed off. He didn’t mention that the night of Armageddon had also involved quite a bit of cuddling. He was hoping, desperately hoping, that that might happen again. But he didn’t want to push it just now.

Crowley stared at Aziraphale for some time before shaking his head. He couldn’t understand what had gotten into Aziraphale—it seemed a strange thing to suddenly take such a strong moral stand on, but Aziraphale was prone to taking strong moral stands on the darndest of things—and besides he could tell that his angel was quite certain. So, finally, he relented, ‘alright, fine. If you’re happy. ‘S fine for me. No big deal.’

‘I am,’ Aziraphale insisted with a little wiggle.

Crowley nodded and licked his lips. ‘What are we doing first then?’ Crowley asked, moving on to a new topic of conversation.

‘Perhaps a walk?’ Aziraphale suggested, ‘See where it takes us?’

Crowley shrugged, ‘Alright. And we’ll be searching for a Creperie for dinner, I suppose?’

Aziraphale smiled brightly with widening eyes. ‘What a good idea,’ he replied, as if he hadn’t even considered the possibility.

Crowley snorted and shook his head fondly.

They walked along the River Seine, popping in and out of shops along the way. Crowley picked up some chocolates which he said were to share later, but they both knew were for Aziraphale. He miracled them back to their hotel room with a discrete click of his fingers. 

Aziraphale insisted on conversing in French, in actual French, not, as they were both capable of in an ancient language that would be automatically translated into the mother tongue of the listener. Crowley chuckled as Aziraphale botched it several times over with a rather snooty shopkeeper who turned her delicate nose up at her language being mishandled by what she believed to was yet another Englishman.

As they left the shop, Crowley turned to Aziraphale, ‘why don’t you just,’ he waggled his fingers, ‘you know? If you’ve forgotten so much of it.’

‘It’ll come back to me if I persist, Crowley,’ Aziraphale replied with a sniff, ‘the trouble is there’s so many languages and they change so fast.’

‘Hm,’ Crowley grunted in reply, ‘Your lot’s doing as I recall.’

‘I’ve told you many times. I’m not consulted on policy decisions, Crowley,’ Aziraphale replied tetchily.

‘More’s the pity,’ Crowley answered, ‘Some of the policies might have made some sense.’

‘I…’ Aziraphale began to counter but then he realised he’d been given a compliment, ‘Oh, thank-you.’

Crowley nodded and smiled a little amused smile.

‘Anyway,’ Aziraphale added as they continued their walk, ‘Not my side anymore.’

‘No, no they are not,’ Crowley agreed.

Aziraphale insisted that they both get a Berthillon ice cream, a specific brand of ice cream originating in Paris that Aziraphale hadn’t tasted in quite some time. Aziraphale chose a chocolate nougat and Crowley shrugged his shoulders and agreed to caramel. They walked up a little further and ate their ice cream while watching street performers at the bridge connecting Ile Saint-Louis to Ile de lad Cite. They tasted each other’s flavours and watched a young woman juggle first some coloured balls and then juggling sticks. She was undeniably talented. Meanwhile, a musician strummed his guitar and sang loudly sometimes in French and sometimes in English. Aziraphale didn’t recognise any of the songs but Crowley just laughed at that and insisted that most were well known. Then, the musician started a song that made Crowley gasp and sigh.

Aziraphale looked across at him fondly, ‘you like this one?’

Crowley cleared his throat, ‘yeah kinda. It’s alright. I guess.’

‘Who’s the artist?’ Aziraphale asked.

‘Velvet Underground,’ Crowley mumbled.

‘Oh. You had a disc of theirs in your car,’ Aziraphale recalled happily.

‘A CD,’ Crowley answered, ‘and yeah. I guess I did.’

Aziraphale listened carefully to the song—a tender and beautiful piece about loving someone who was married, someone with pale blue eyes—and Crowley squirmed uncomfortably at his side. Aziraphale puzzled over the lyrics. Why would this song be so meaningful to Crowley? Perhaps he just enjoyed the melody. When the song finished, Crowley, ears tinted pink, insisted that they move on. They walked over the bridge and across to Notre Dame. Getting there, they found they had no desire to go any further and they walked back again. This time they paused at the very top of the bridge, overlooking the Seine River. The setting sun seemed to skit across the top of the water, leaving golden droplets in its wake.

‘It really is terribly beautiful, isn’t it?’ Aziraphale said with a sigh.

‘The Seine?’ Crowley asked.

‘The _world_ ,’ Aziraphale replied passionately.

Crowley laughed a surprised huff of a laugh. He smiled fondly, looking across to Aziraphale, ‘Yeah, yeah it is. Terribly beautiful.’

Aziraphale could feel the possibility open again. For a moment the world, the terribly beautiful world, seemed to pause and hold its breath. Maybe here, maybe right here, on this bridge between one island and the next, maybe here Aziraphale could find the right words to connect them forever, to make two that were once one whole again.

‘Crowley?’ Aziraphale began. Yes, this was it. He had his courage.

‘Hm?’ Crowley replied, gazing back out over the Seine.

A little crease appeared on Aziraphale’s forehead, and his hands found each other, thumb rubbing into the back of the other hand nervously.

‘Crowley,’ Aziraphale repeated.

Crowley’s own brow furrowed ever so slightly as he met Aziraphale’s eyes.

Aziraphale swallowed hard, ‘how long have we been friends? Six thousand years?’

Crowley raised a single eyebrow and Aziraphale realised with a horrible sickening crash where his mind had plucked those exact words from. His eyes widened and he continued in a rush, ‘what I mean is, what I mean Crowley is, you must know, you must be aware of just how deeply I admire and respect you, of how much I hold you in high esteem, of how important you are to me, how cherished.. of how I…I….’

Crowley smiled a tender smile and he shook his head, ‘Don’t think anything of it, angel. S’all forgotten, alright?’

Crowley turned back to watching the sunbeams kiss the top of the river and Aziraphale sighed. The moment had passed, and somehow although these two islands could be connected by human ingenuity, Aziraphale still could not find the words to bring himself and Crowley together at last. Whatever he managed to say, Crowley failed to understand.

They watched the water in silence, as moments ticked by and the sun slid beneath the horizon.

‘So, creperie, then?’ Crowley said with a shrug.

Aziraphale nodded as Crowley slipped his phone out of his pocket and consulted google maps, ‘least we don’t have to wander around looking for one this time.’

Aziraphale smiled politely and followed Crowley, along a little slithering snaking path out and in of alleyways that Aziraphale strongly suspected was not the same path that Crowley’s phone was suggesting (he had grasped, from previous occasions, that mobile phones could be used to dictate an exact path to a destination). It was no matter. Aziraphale was perfectly content to follow Crowley, as Crowley had so often followed Aziraphale.

Eventually, they found themselves outside a quaint little creperie. They opened the door and the delicious scent drifted over. It was perfect. Clearly a traditional establishment, in operation for quite some time.

Aziraphale grinned, ‘Ah, yes, this will do nicely.’

Crowley winked and gestured for Aziraphale to enter. Aziraphale grinned widely and entered.

The restaurateur showed them to a little table by the window. They frowned over the menus for some time, or rather Aziraphale frowned over them. Eventually, Aziraphale ordered a selection to share: some savoury with cheeses, mushrooms, asparagus and ham, and some sweet with strawberries, banana and chocolate.

Crowley ate his fill and then sat back, drinking his wine while he watched Aziraphale finish off what was left.

‘That was truly delicious,’ Aziraphale sighed, patting his mouth with a serviette.

‘You can only get decent crepes in Paris,’ Crowley said with a grin, ‘Or so I’m told. You wouldn’t believe the lengths some people would go for them.’

Aziraphale smiled at the little dig, ‘And what shall we do tomorrow, dear boy?’

‘Bastille?’ Crowley said with a single eyebrow raised.

Aziraphale laughed, ‘Just a few stones now, isn’t it? It was destroyed in…’ he frowned, ‘You know, I can’t seem to remember when.’

Crowley frowned. He couldn’t recall exactly either. He shrugged, ‘Eh, they destroyed it at some point… we could bring it back. Just for old times’ sake.’

‘I don’t think I brought quite the right attire for a trip to the Bastille,’ Aziraphale quipped, eyes wide.

‘I dunno,’ Crowley replied, ‘I’m sure we could pick you up a few ruffles. We are in Paris after all.’

‘And the shoes,’ Aziraphale said with raised eyebrows, ‘I haven’t worn heels quite like that in some time.’

‘They were very nice heels,’ Crowley agreed, ‘and we mustn’t forget the chains.’

Aziraphale’s eyes widened, ‘oh?’

To Aziraphale’s delight, Crowley’s ears immediately pinked up as he attempted a nonchalant shrug, ‘m a demon. Meant to put angels in chains, aren’t I?’

Aziraphale chuckled heartily. While he was sure that that was what Crowley had meant, the blush suggested that he, too, had recognised the unintentional innuendo.

Aziraphale decided to push it a little. He leaned forward and said, ‘Shouldn’t I be wrestling you into submission and chaining you up then, fiend?’

Crowley made a little choking sound and his cheeks flushed scarlet. He cleared his throat, ‘as if you could, angel.’

Aziraphale sat back up, ‘I think you’d be surprised,’ he said, taking a long drink of wine, conscious of Crowley’s eyes on him the whole time.

Well-fed, they walked back to the hotel in a companionable silence.

Back at their room, Aziraphale unpacked a neat little stack of books from his luggage and sat them carefully on his bedside table. Crowley clicked his fingers and miracled himself out of his clothes and into sleek black pyjamas. Aziraphale slipped off his shoes and changed his coat for his comfortable cardigan. Crowley climbed into bed on the left and Aziraphale climbed in on the right side, sitting up leaning against pillow propped up against the head of the bed.

‘See?’ Aziraphale said with a grin, as he reached over to take the first book from the pile, ‘plenty of room.’

‘Hm,’ Crowley agreed as he rolled over—away from Aziraphale, Aziraphale noted with a disappointed tut— and drifted off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Aziraphale smiled fondly to himself as he watched Crowley stir in his sleep, book long forgotten and discarded carelessly on the blanket. Crowley was lying on his stomach, mouth slightly open and one arm wrapped tightly around a pillow. Aziraphale imagined how it might feel to have that arm wrapped around him. He sighed longingly. He wanted it so deeply he almost ached with it.

Crowley looked so peaceful in slumber, so content. Angelic a human might say. Aziraphale chuckled softly to himself, as he visualised how Crowley would react to that. It would, no doubt, involve a lot of spluttering. As the sun continued to rise, the gentle morning sunlight streamed in through window and fondled Crowley’s crimson hair, drawing out the variation and texture in the shade. How Aziraphale longed to reach out and fondle that hair too. He bit his lower lip and sighed again.

Crowley cracked open a single eyelid and looked sleepily at Aziraphale. Aziraphale, with a great start of panic at suddenly and unexpectedly being watched back, clutched at his discarded book in the blankets. He reopened it with haste and threw himself into the act of pretending very hard to be reading it, to have been reading it all night long.

Crowley smiled and closed his eye again. ‘Not gonna tell you how to read a book, angel,’ Crowley drawled, ‘You’ve got much more experience than me. But it’s upside down.’

Aziraphale chuckled nervously, his cheeks warming. He turned the book the right way up. ‘Of course.’

‘Thinking of giving it another go, are you?’ Crowley said with a long yawn.

‘What?’ Aziraphale replied, voice threaded with panic. Yes, dear. Yes, I am definitely planning on giving confessing my true feelings to you another go. I’ll probably try it over and over for the rest of eternity or until you finally hear me at least. I’m determined to. And, in fact, the Lord commands me to.

‘Sleeping,’ Crowley said with another yawn as he rolled over dramatically, flinging the pillow onto the floor. He opened his golden eyes fully and blinked several long blinks in Aziraphale’s direction.

‘Oh,’ Aziraphale replied with another little nervous laugh, ‘of course. Yes, you did look rather peaceful,’ he swallowed, ‘I was thinking of trying it tonight. I confess that was exactly what I was thinking.’ Alright, it was a lie. He hadn’t been thinking of sleeping at all but perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea. Not just being in the same bed, but actually sleeping together. It was a potential step up, wasn’t it? Intimate. Aziraphale thought again of how Crowley wrapped his arms around that pillow. He imagined waking up with that same arm wrapped around him. He shivered.

‘You should,’ Crowley replied, ‘S fucking fantastic.’ He yawned again and stretched dramatically, his button up black pyjama top riding up with the stretch of his arms and exposing his stomach. Aziraphale’s gaze slid down to the tiny sliver of pearl white skin with a delicate dusting of crimson hair. He couldn’t help it. It stood out between the black pajamas. Aziraphale swallowed hard.

Of course, the body wasn’t Crowley. But that didn’t mean the body wasn’t precious to Aziraphale. It was precious in the same way that a human might find their loved one’s favourite shirt precious, the one that made their eyes stand out in just the right way or fit just so or that they had happened to be wearing on their first date. Crowley was, Aziraphale thought, unmistakeably endearing. Every bit of him. Everything associated with him, including his body. Aziraphale remembered wearing that body. He remembered the fierce intimacy of it. He remembered feeling the lingering spirit of Crowley in every cell, in every movement, like a scent embedded in fabric.

‘I do like your body,’ the words tumbled out of Aziraphale’s mouth before he could stop them. He swallowed hard again.

Crowley looked up with a sideways smile, ‘You what?’

Aziraphale shook his head, a blush spreading across his cheeks, ‘I just mean, it suits you. Always has.’

Crowley shrugged, ‘S’alright,’ he paused a beat and smiled with uncharacteristic shyness, ‘You looked alright in it.’

‘Oh? You thought so?’ Aziraphale said with wide eyes and a delighted wiggle. His eyes darted about not knowing quite where to look and his hands began to twist in the blankets, ‘I confess there was something about seeing you in… And wearing your…and well, of course the moment…’ he shook his head before he could give more away. Then he silently chided himself as he remembered he was meant to be giving more away.

Crowley licked his lips and looked at Aziraphale carefully for a long moment. He stretched again, gaze drifting away from Aziraphale towards the ceiling, ‘I know what you mean.’

‘You do?’ Aziraphale bubbled.

‘Hm,’ Crowley said as he sat up, slipping his feet into the floor, ‘S like a human wearing their partner’s jumper or the other way around or something.’ He flushed a delicate shade of pink and stood up. He walked towards the ensuite door. Then he turned, amber gaze fixing on Aziraphale, ‘and I’ve always liked yours. Liked wearing it too to be honest,’ he shrugged, ‘but it suits you.’

Crowley closed the bathroom door behind him and Aziraphale sighed a great shuddering sigh. He could hear Crowley turn on the bathroom tap and begin to splash water on his face. Aziraphale’s hand fluttered over his chest. They were coming so close to it now, weren’t they? With every moment they were stepping closer. Aziraphale felt as if he were standing on a precipice and with every step, he felt like he was about to fall. 

Aziraphale had barely caught his breath when Crowley sauntered back out of the bathroom, hair styled and clothes on. He flopped down on the bed, looking up at Aziraphale, ‘So, what’d ya want to do today?’

Aziraphale twisted the blanket and gave this some thought. What would set the right mood? They were making excellent progress. Aziraphale felt sure it that they were close now. It only needed a little more. He licked his lips, ‘I’m not sure. Is there anything you’d enjoy?’

Crowley shrugged, ‘No need to do the touristy stuff, is there? The Eiffel Tower and the Louvre and the like. We’ve seen it all before at one time or another.’

‘Don’t want to visit the Mona Lisa then?’ Aziraphale asked with a smile, ‘he was a great friend of yours, after all.’

Crowley snorted. ‘The sketch I have is better,’ he looked to Aziraphale, ‘and you don’t want to go weep at Wilde’s grave? He was a friend of yours.’

Aziraphale laughed, ‘No, dear. I have my memories. And his complete works, all first editions with personal messages. That’s quite enough for me.’

‘Hm,’ Crowley agreed with a sigh.

Aziraphale licked his lips, ‘So nothing touristy. What does tickle your fancy then?’

Crowley’s face screwed up in thought for a bit. Eventually, he answered, ‘Disneyland?’

Aziraphale laughed, ‘I thought you said you didn’t want to do the tourist thing. You can’t get more tourist then Disneyland!’

Crowley frowned, ‘Shuddup. It’s Disneyland, isn’t it? Different. Alright, maybe the catacombs.’

Aziraphale frowned distastefully, ‘Oh, really. A whole lot of poor souls improperly buried on display. It’s so macabre.’

‘Yeah…but…it’s spooky, isn’t it?’ Crowley countered, ‘Big spooky fan, me.’

Aziraphale sighed, ‘spooky is not quite the atmosphere I had in mind for this weekend.’

Crowley quirked up an eyebrow, ‘What kind of atmosphere did you have in mind?’

Aziraphale blushed, ‘Oh I don’t know… something a little more…’ he choked on the word romantic.

Crowley seemed to understand anyway. His mouth broke into a wide, knowing grin. ‘What we did yesterday was good. Something like that?’

Aziraphale nodded, ‘precisely.’

‘I know the spot,’ Crowley replied definitely, ‘we’ll take the Bentley ‘n bring a picnic.’

‘Oh, I brought my picnic basket!’ Aziraphale said with a clap of his hands.

‘I know, angel,’ Crowley replied with an amused grin.

While Aziraphale filled his picnic basket with choice offerings from the nearest boulangerie, Crowley picked several bottles of wine. They met up at the Bentley.

‘Where are we going then?’ Aziraphale asked as Crowley sped off.

‘You’ll see,’ Crowley replied with a smile.

Aziraphale frowned curiously as Crowley drove them into Montmartre, to the back of Sacré-Coeur. They parked, stepped out of the Bentley and Aziraphale sighed at the beauty of the high stone walls covered with overgrown vines. He walked over to the sign at the entrance—, a large closed wooden door— and, frowning, attempted to read it. He shook his head. French had never been his strongest language. He squinted, taking the tiniest of peaks using his angelic ability to comprehend any language. Just a tiny peak to help. It wasn’t really cheating. Oh. It was some kind of biodiversity reserve. A stretch of land that had been allowed to run wild. But, oh…

‘Crowley, dear,’ Aziraphale said with another shake of his head, as he grasped the gist of it, ‘I think it’s closed.’

‘It is,’ Crowley replied with a grin, ‘that’s the best bit of the plan, angel. Follow me.’

Picnic blanket and bag with the wine slung over one shoulder, Crowley began to scale with wall, to deftly slither on up it.

‘Oh, good lord, Crowley!’ Aziraphale admonished as he watched Crowley scramble up.

Crowley got to the top of the wall and looked back, beaming with pride, ‘c’mon, angel. You used to be quite comfortable on garden walls as I recall.’

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, hooked the handle of the picnic basket under one elbow and clicked his fingers, appearing instantly standing on the top of the wall.

‘Hello there,’ Crowley said with a wink.

Aziraphale chuckled as he looked across to Crowley, ‘well, this is familiar, isn’t it?’

‘Ah-huh.’

‘Oh!’ Aziraphale sighed, as he caught sight of the garden inside—the pond, wildflowers, self-seeded shrubs and elderberry trees, old wooden fences, and old run-down buildings overrun with thick ivy—and it took his breath away, ‘this is… why it’s beautiful! It’s like a little wilderness, a piece of Paris returned to nature.’

Crowley smiled, ‘Exactly. Right atmosphere then?’

‘Oh yes!’ Aziraphale replied enthusiastically. He chewed his bottom lip, ‘are you sure it’s alright? It is meant to be closed.’

‘S’fine. No one has to know. Anyway, what are they gonna do?’ Crowley said with a shrug, ‘kick us out of the garden? Big deal. We know how that ends.’ And with that he leapt on in.

‘You fiend!’ Aziraphale cried out. Then he laughed. He shook his head and muttered ‘oh very well,’and leapt down himself, landing next to Crowley.

Crowley held out his arm for Aziraphale to loop his arm through. Aziraphale did, his heart skipping a beat at the contact.

‘Let’s find the perfect spot,’ Crowley said with a soft smile.

They walked around the garden in full and eventually found the perfect picnic spot. The pond was in view and there was a little falling down stone wall covered in ivy just to the side. Crowley put down the picnic blanket as Aziraphale watched a butterfly flutter by. He put down the basket and sat with a contented sigh. ‘It really is terribly beautiful.’

‘Hm,’ Crowley agreed, ‘I mean, don’t get me wrong, plants grow best with a little encouragement. But, this lot, they just decided to take this back, didn’t they? You gotta admire them for that.’

Aziraphale smiled widely, ‘Yes, yes I suppose so.’

Crowley sprawled out on the blanket beside Aziraphale and watched as Aziraphale unpacked the lunch: a selection of brioche, baguettes with ham, cheese and salad, and tartlets with fruit and custard. Crowley sat up to open a bottle of wine and poured two glasses. A cool breeze stirred through the trees, making the sunlight ripple across the blanket. In the distance bees hummed contentedly.

Aziraphale sighed, ‘well chosen, dear boy. It is really very beautiful.’

Crowley grinned a little sideways grin, ‘you already said that.’

‘Oh,’ Aziraphale said with a coy smile, ‘I did, didn’t I…’ he swallowed, ‘Brioche?’

Crowley nodded, ate some brioche, and nibbled on a ham and salad baguette. He settled down to watch Aziraphale finish his lunch with an intense stare.

Lunch complete, stomachs full, and heads pleasantly heavily with alcohol, Aziraphale lay down beside Crowley. For a while they were simply together in a contented silence, as white clouds passed overhead, across a grey-blue sky. After a time, they broke the silence by guessing the shapes in the clouds. Crowley was able to see all kinds of things. On more than one occasion, his prodigious imagination left Aziraphale shaking his head.

‘That’s never a dragon!’ Aziraphale objected.

‘Course it is,’ Crowley said, ‘Look there,’ he said pointing to a particular cloud, ‘that’s the head, and that’s the body, and that there’s the wings, you see?’

Aziraphale’s face scrunched up and he squinted up at the sky. ‘What there?’ Aziraphale asked, pointing.

‘What?’ Crowley laughed, ‘No! Not over there! That’s the castle. No, the dragon is here,’ he said taking Aziraphale’s hand and pointing the finger to the correct cloud, ‘That’s the dragon. See, there’s her head, and body and wings, see?’

‘Her?’

Crowley shrugged, ‘Looks like a her to me.’

Aziraphale giggled and turned to Crowley. He was close. All of a sudden, he was very close indeed. Crowley’s hand was still holding Aziraphale’s own and the warmth of it tingled on Aziraphale’s skin. Crowley swallowed, and Aziraphale’s eyes followed the movement of his perfect throat. Crowley licked his lips and carefully, as if in slow-motion, he let go of Aziraphale’s hand.

They returned to silence. But this time it wasn’t comfortable. It wasn’t uncomfortable either, not exactly. The silence buzzed with anticipation. Aziraphale could feel the pressure of all that he wanted to say, of all that he longed for Crowley to hear. Aziraphale hoped that this time he would find the words that Crowley would understand. He was determined to at least give it another try.

‘Well,’ Aziraphale said eventually, ‘we had our picnic.’

Crowley raised an eyebrow, ‘That’s right. We said we’d picnic someday, didn’t we?’

Aziraphale nodded, ‘We did.’

They both looked to the clouds again. ‘We’ve done so much together, haven’t we?’ Aziraphale said, ‘over the years.’

‘Hm.’

‘Is there anything else you want to do?’ Aziraphale asked, gaze darting to Crowley’s.

‘Together?’ Crowley said thickly.

Aziraphale nodded, ‘together.’

Crowley chewed at his bottom lip, ‘Many things.’

‘Such as?’

‘Well, like…’ Crowley said softly as he turned to face Aziraphale, propping himself up on one elbow to manage it. He smiled and licked his lips, ‘well, I mean like…’ Aziraphale’s heart thudded in his chest. But then Crowley’s attention was captured by something over Aziraphale’s shoulder. His gaze flicked up and his amber eyes widened, ‘oh fuck….’

‘What?’ Aziraphale said with a start, looking over his shoulder to see what Crowley was looking at. An outraged Parisian was running towards them yelling out all kinds of things that Aziraphale did not need translated to know he didn’t want to know the meaning of.

‘Oh, dear,’ Aziraphale gasped.

‘Uh-ha,’ Crowley said. He clicked his lips and whispered, ‘run?’

Aziraphale leapt up and started packing up the food.

‘Leave the food, angel!’ Crowley growled, tugging at Aziraphale’s arm. Aziraphale looked up to see the Parisian man was steadily getting closer. He really did move quite fast and he was waving his arms about in a terribly agitated fashion. Aziraphale ran.

They darted around the pond, past the ivy-covered wooden fence, darting between trees and shrubs, the angry Parisian in hot pursuit. Crowley got to the high stone wall first, and immediately darted over the top with preternatural skill. This seemed to enrage the Parisian further. Aziraphale huffed and puffed as he glanced back at him. Aziraphale clicked his fingers and walked straight through the wall and into the open passenger door of the Bentley. As he clambered in, Crowley clicked his fingers and their picnic immediately appeared on the backseat, leftover food returned to the picnic basket, blanket neatly folded. Aziraphale slammed the door and the engine roared. Crowley zoomed them away just as the angry man appeared outside the garden, shaking his fist and swearing in French.

Aziraphale stared at the figure, rapidly getting smaller, as Crowley drove with demonic determination. When the figure disappeared from sight altogether, Aziraphale sighed.

‘Alright, angel?’ Crowley said, glancing his way as he slipped his sunglasses back on.

Aziraphale looked across to Crowley, ‘Yes, yes I think so.’

‘Bit of a flashback, huh?’ Crowley said with a grin.

Aziraphale shook his head. Crowley snorted. They both began to laugh, great hysterical chuckles.

‘That was ridiculous, Crowley,’ Aziraphale spluttered out eventually, ‘Absolutely ridiculous!’

‘Oh, c’mon, you know you’ve had a really good picnic when it ends with a chase scene,’ Crowley countered.

‘Why did we run, anyway?’ Aziraphale replied, ‘we could have miracled ourselves back into the Bentley, along with the picnic.’

Crowley shrugged, ‘S’ more fun.’

‘More fun,’ Aziraphale tutted, a fond grin destroying his attempt to admonish Crowley, ‘you wily old serpent.’

‘You can’t say you weren’t warned,’ Crowley said with a sideways grin.

The day was mostly over. So, they drove back to Ile Saint-Louis and dined at a restaurant close to their hotel. As they walked back to their hotel, Aziraphale reflected that it had been a good day. They had shifted just a little closer again. But they still weren’t quite there. Crowley was still not fully understanding Aziraphale’s best attempts at communicating how he felt. In fairness, the angry Parisian hadn’t helped. Still, how long would it take for Aziraphale to find the words that Crowley would understand? With this question still spinning in his head, Aziraphale felt Crowley climb into bed beside him, already in his black pajamas.

‘You gonna try sleep tonight, or what?’ Crowley asked as he settled in, head upon the pillow.

Aziraphale smiled down at him from where he was, propped up against the bedhead, ‘I will, definitely. I’ll just finish this chapter.’

Crowley nodded and yawned, ‘Alright then.’ He curled up, still facing Aziraphale, and was soon snoring great snakey snores.

Once he was sure Crowley was asleep, Aziraphale clicked his fingers, changing his clothes to tartan pajamas. He shuffled down in the bed, lying his head on the pillow. He carefully placed his hands on his own stomach, fingers interlaced. He chewed nervously at his bottom lip and closed his eyes. Now, how does one do it? Aziraphale had slept before. But not for many years. He’d never, unlike Crowley, made a habit of it. I suppose, he thought to himself, one simply waits for sleep to come. He waited and he waited. Eventually, it came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The garden was inspired by Jardin Sauvage Saint-Vincent, but not intended to be accurately portrayed. I took the general idea and ran with it.


End file.
